


Prelude to the Wedding

by grelleswife



Series: Dadbastian Week 2019 [4]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Dadbastian Week, Gen, O!Ciel and Lizzy are both eighteen now, O!Ciel's soul is never eaten!, Parent-Child Relationship, Platonic Relationships, Sebastian loves his foster son but that won't stop the demon from roasting him now and then, Weddings, he and Lizzy get married and are happy together!, not sebaciel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 09:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21505522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grelleswife/pseuds/grelleswife
Summary: Sebastian realizes that his young master is suffering from wedding jitters on the morning he is to marry Lizzy Midford.
Relationships: Elizabeth Midford/Ciel Phantomhive, Sebastian Michaelis & Ciel Phantomhive
Series: Dadbastian Week 2019 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547587
Comments: 12
Kudos: 84





	Prelude to the Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> This is a soft, fluffy AU in which Sebastian couldn't bring himself to claim O!Ciel's soul, choosing to stay on Earth instead so that he could continue to serve as the Earl's butler. At this point, Lizzy and O!Ciel are both eighteen.

The day that the Earl of Phantomhive and Elizabeth Midford would be joined in holy matrimony was as bright and auspicious as Sebastian could have hoped for. The butler had toiled for months to ensure that his young master had one hell of a wedding, and nature itself seemed to be his ally in this endeavor. There was a fly in the ointment, though…

After serving the Earl for almost a decade, Sebastian was keenly attuned to the slightest fluctuations of his moods. Thanks in part to his demonic sensibilities, Sebastian could interpret the ebb and flow of the young master’s psyche with the expertise of a seasoned mariner studying the tides. There was no mistaking it—the Queen’s Watchdog, who routinely pursued England’s vilest criminals without so much as a shiver, was a nervous wreck. He supposed it was only natural. Perhaps even his master was susceptible to “wedding jitters.”

The eighteen-year old gazed out the carriage window, his good eye glazed over as he retreated into the depths of introspection. He gnawed furiously at his lower lip, his foot tapped restlessly on the floor, and he mindlessly twisted the family ring back and forth on his thumb.

“Tsk,” Sebastian muttered under his breath. Really, now. At this rate, the young master would fret himself into a fainting spell or asthma attack before they’d reached the church.

“Are you quite well, my lord?” he asked pointedly.

The Earl started, distracted from whatever anxious musings had been running through his mind.

“O-of course,” he stammered, straightening his tophat and fixing Sebastian with a stern look. “Why the hell wouldn’t I be?”

“Hmm…if I didn’t know better, my lord, I’d say you were nervous about greeting your bride,” Sebastian teased. No harm in needling him a little.

The Earl turned a vivid red. “I’m not _nervous_ , you git. Lizzy and I rehearsed the entire ceremony, and everything’s in order. So o-of course I’m not worried. I’m just…ah…”

“Scared?” Sebastian smirked.

“You—you damn blackguard!” The Earl scowled and indignantly shook his fist.

“I merely speak the truth, young master. As you know, I cannot lie to you.”

The Earl wasn’t so “young” anymore, though. To Sebastian’s confusion, he had matured overnight into a full-fledged adult. The eight years that had elapsed since the young master contracted with him sometimes felt more like eight minutes. In hell, time meandered downward in a dreamlike spiral; on Earth, it hurtled forward at a dizzyingly precipitous pace.

 _Don’t get sentimental, you fool_ , he chided himself.

“My lord, a new beginning always comes with a measure of trepidation, but you shouldn’t let that fear consume you. From my understanding of weddings, this is supposed to be a _joyous_ occasion. I’m sure Miss Elizabeth will be a vision when she walks down the aisle, and the other servants will be cheering you on from the front pew. You might not have close relations there besides the Midfords, but you will be surrounded by friends—”

Sebastian could have kicked himself. A proper butler would never remind his master that his deceased parents were missing from one of the most important moments of his life. For shame!

The Earl’s expression seemed thoughtful rather than angry, however. An awkward silence descended as the Watchdog pondered his next words. “What do you mean? My father’s right here. My mother, too.”

Sebastian’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t follow…”

His master hesitated before laughing, “Oh bugger it” and scooting over to wrap his arms around Sebastian. Wait…was this one of those “hugs” mortals gave each other as signs of affection?

“I’m talking about _you_ , you bloody great idiot.”

The normally glib demon was speechless. _Father…mother…me?_

Admittedly, it did make sense. The young master had been but a child when first they met, and Sebastian had found himself fulfilling the role of guardian for this demanding little human. His throat felt oddly tight. Gingerly, he returned the embrace.

“Still an impertinent brat as ever…son.”

_And still surprising me, just like you have from the very beginning._

He was overcome by the unaccountable _something_ that had stayed his hand and prompted him to spare his master’s soul after the Earl had achieved his revenge.

When the young master finally withdrew to return to his side of the carriage, he seemed much calmer. Sebastian made a mental note that hugs were a useful treatment for anxiety. There was always something new to learn when you served the Queen’s Watchdog.

The Earl looked dapper as could be in the elegant suit designed by Nina Hopkins, and Miss Elizabeth was equally dazzling in her ruffled white wedding dress. The earl had to reach up slightly when they kissed. To this day, he was an inch or two shorter than his bride, and Mistress Elizabeth wore proper heels now. Unlike his deceased brother, the young master knew how to appreciate a woman who stood tall.

Sebastian blinked. Had something gotten in his eyes? He discretely dabbed at them with a handkerchief, which was promptly soaked with salt water. _Oh fuck, I’m crying._ His master had managed to conquer the wedding jitters, but Sebastian reflected ruefully that he himself was doomed to be fond of this young man for the rest of his days.


End file.
